Time Traveller
by AzraelPhoenix
Summary: Steve gets thrown back in time, on the hunt for his best friend, and finds someone else instead. Oneshot (currently). Based off a prompt.


_Prompt: Steve meets Connor._

The bright light nearly blinded him again, and then his feet were on solid ground, and there was a cool breeze brushing past him. Steve Rogers stumbled, caught himself, still not used to the jarring feeling of time travel. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked around as his vision cleared. This wasn't New York 2014, but it definitely wasn't Brooklyn 1940 either. Shit. The buildings were old fashioned. Too old fashioned. Glancing around, he spotted movement at the end of the small alley he stood in. It wasn't too late, thank god, and people were still walking the streets. He glanced down at his attire. Shit. He was dressed casual forties, collared shirt, slacks, boots. He would look out of place here with that, let alone the large, coloured vibranium shield attached to his back. Ah well. Had to get this over with. Tony couldn't retrieve him if he didn't know when he was.

"Excuse me?" He tried again, but the people around him merely glanced his way, then ignored him. All of the papers were sold out, he had already tried them, visiting every newsagent in the area. At least he know knew _where_ he was. Boston. At least he was still in the US. He sighed, rubbing his face with a hand, then glanced around again. That man, he was … different? Dressed differently at least. Moved in a way reminiscent of a wildcat, stalking prey. If anyone would actually speak to him, it would be this one. Steve wasn't sure how he knew, he just did. Making sure his shield was still holding to the magnets of the harness, he headed over.

He stepped in the path of the man, who immediately focused on him. He opened his mouth, only to be signalled quiet. The man grabbed his arm, and all but dragged him into the alley Steve had first appeared in.

"Who sent you?"

"What?"

"Was it Achilles? Old man could never stop meddling. Spit it out, I'm working!"

"My name is Steve Rogers, I'm … not from around here"

"I can see that! Who dressed you?"

"I dressed myself?"

The man groaned in annoyance, raising his eyes to the sky as though asking for patience. He pushed back his hood, revealing a young man, early twenties at the latest.

"I'll start again. My name is Raton- Conner. My name is Conner Kenway. You are Steve Rogers. Now who sent you? Is there another Assassin's brotherhood in this country?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. All I want to know is what the year is, or who the president is."

"1972, and General Washington is the closest thing to a President we have."

"Jesus! Missed the mark by a long time."

"You're not an Assassin, you don't know who we are so I assume you're not Templar. You walk like a soldier, and look like a man in the wrong time. Who are you, Steve Rogers?"

"Well you're not wrong. I was born 1918, and come from the year 2014, if you believe in that kind of thing. I'm looking for someone, but missed the target year."

"Missed it by how much?"

"I was aiming for early 1944. So, a lot."

"I can see that. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to call my ride and have him collect me."

"What do you mean?'

"Hold on."

Steve pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal a complex, softly humming, heavily modified comm device. He pressed the hidden button on the side, and quickly spoke into it, Tony's crackled responses barely audible, but working, thank god.

"Tony is a genius, he is the one who made the thing that sent me here, he altered this so it would work across time. You're taking this rather well might I add."

The young man, Connor, shrugged.

"I've just recently found out that my actions have been manipulated by people of a long-dead civilisation who are attempting to come back to life, so honestly nothing could surprise me right now."

"Fair enough. Any time now I'll be pulled back, so, just in case I don't get another chance, good luck on your mission, kid."

"Kid? I'm not much younger than you!"

"Trust me, I'm older than I look."

Steve grinned at Connor's frustrated expression, and was about to say something further when his vision started to haze, and his stomach dropped.

"Guess this is it. Goodbye Connor. Good luck."


End file.
